


A Huntress Abroad: London

by DinasEmrys



Series: A Huntress Abroad [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Bars and Pubs, Dating, Doctor Who References, F/F, Fluff, Harry Potter References, London, References to Shakespeare, Romance, The Globe Theatre, Travel Fiction, World Travel, meet-not-so-cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinasEmrys/pseuds/DinasEmrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Weiss brings Yang and Ruby with her on a vacation to London. They shop, go to a few plays, visit the Doctor Who Museum, and Yang meets a very nice British Faunus. Short-ish Travel Fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Upton Park

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: RWBY is the property of Roosterteeth and the creation of Monty Oum.

"Come on, Weiss!"

"Yang, we are not here just to go shopping!"

"We can do the Tower tomorrow, so come  _on_!"

Weiss rolled her eyes. The sisters had already dragged her over to Earls Court, spending an hour running around like children in front of the blue police box. The heiress, having no interest in photographs of herself standing before a movie prop, had been designated their official photographer, which inevitably meant being badgered by Yang into 'just one more shot.' This, of course, was after they had already dragged her to King's Cross to hold onto a baggage cart stuck halfway in a wall. Now they stood in front of a bright blue storefront, named with the big bold letters of a legendary sci-fi show with a steadily growing number of American converts. Shoppers darted in and out, mindful parents with children in-hand and tourists positively drooling at the sight of the attached museum.

"Weiss," Ruby said softly, tugging on her sleeve until Weiss looked over at the girl. In a quiet voice, made soft by awe and wonder, she whispered, "They have  _Daleks_."

Where Yang's exuberance and determination had failed, Ruby's puppy eyes succeeded. Gritting her teeth and resigning herself to another hour of fannish cooing, Weiss waved them on, a part of her regretting that she had ever introduced them to the damn show.

With the first half of the eleventh doctor's newest season fast approaching, she had tried – again – to drag herself back into the show. It wasn't that she  _minded_  Matt Smith exactly, just that she remembered the original and while the dreamboat era was nice, it wasn't the Doctor Who she remembered. Unfortunately, Yang and Ruby had walked in on her latest attempt to work through the adventures of Matt Smith and company. After watching a bow-tied fez-wearing maniac nearly blow up the sun, they had promptly insisted that she jump back to the first Eccleston episode.

Several days of an almost non-stop marathon later, the two had become avid fans of the British show, with Torchwood (which Weiss had never gotten around to) and the Sarah Jane Adventures (which she had never been interested in) already added to their Netflix cue. When they realized that there was a host of Who-related landmarks in London, Weiss had found a disturbing number of side-trips added to their itinerary.

The heiress, for the most part, tolerated their enthusiasm with only the occasional bout of aggrieved sighing. Letting them lead the charge into the shop, she settled herself back among the bookshelves, thumbing through the stacked biographies of various cast members. The sisters darted from section to section, admiring action figures and debating the merits of costumes. There were post cards and posters, and novels filled with stories never filmed.

Engrossed in a dissection of the casting process, Weiss made sure to look up occasionally, just in case someone – probably Yang – had managing to create some new disaster. The third time she checked, she found Ruby, alone in the plush aisle, holding a bright red robot in front of her face.

" _YOU WOULD MAKE A GOOD DAAAALEK,_ " the plushie chirped, drawing out the last syllable as it praised Ruby's non-existent ruthlessness. Eyes bright and hopeful, she checked the tag, her face falling at the price. Even from across the store, Weiss could see the gears whirring in Ruby's head, running through monetary conversions and calculating how much of a dent in her travel budget the toy would be. Drooping, Ruby finally placed the Dalek back on the counter, mourning the loss of the adorable little killing machine. Already perking up again, she joined Yang by the light-up screwdrivers.

It took Weiss a few seconds to make up her mind, weighing to various benefits with the all-too-certain constant annoyance she would have to endure.  _Then again, t_ _here really isn't a choice_ , she thought, remembering how Ruby's face had lit up at the sight of the omnicidal monster. Weiss waited until the two girls were engrossed in their souvenirs, bit her cheek, heaved an inward sigh, and marched over to the register.

The sisters emerged from the shop an hour later, each sporting brand-new sonic screwdrivers – Tennant's silver-and-blue for Ruby, Smith's gold-and-green for Yang. Weiss trailed behind them, a small bag hanging from her wrist, nose buried in a Troughton biography and trying desperately to ignore the constant whirring and buzzing. With a sudden cry of "Flake!", Yang was gone, bolting off to the ice cream stand and leaving the other two to trail along behind her.

"Hey, Weiss?"

Halfway through a sentence, the heiress popped her head up, blinking owlishly as her eyes readjusted.

Ruby smiled, leaning her head down to rest on Weiss' shoulder. "Thanks for putting up with us. I know you were bored."

"No, I-" Weiss paused. She was going to have to do it eventually. If she did it now ...  _Might as well get the suffering over sooner rather than later._ Mind made up, she carefully marked the page she was on, and slid the book back into her bag. "Close your eyes."

Checking to make sure her girlfriend wasn't peeking, Weiss pulled the cherry-red plush from her bag and shoved it into Ruby's hands, steeling herself before pushing the little button beneath the eye-stalk.

" _EXTERMINATE!_ "

Ruby's eyes shot open, staring down at the soft little toy. Her jaw worked soundlessly, gaze darting up to look at Weiss, unvoiced thanks beaming out of those pale grey eyes. Toy still gripped in her hands, she wrapped her arms around the slightly taller girl, burying her face in Weiss' shoulder as she tried to crush her ribs in thanks. The Dalek ended up squished against her back, still chirping its murderous little threats.

"Thank you thank you tha-"

" _EXTERMINATE!_ "

"-ank you thank you thank you!"

"Don't make me regret this," Weiss huffed, pulling Ruby off her once the hug had gone a little too long for her liking. "Off. You're making a scene."

"Aww," a distinctly American voice drawled. Yang had returned, three soft-serve cones with Flake bars jammed into them balanced in her hands. "I knew you had a heart."

"Shut it, Yang."

" _EXTERMINATE!_ "

"What did I _just_  say?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The team (Blake is in the third chapter) are visiting London in 2011, the year before the London Olympics and - for some reason - the year that a bunch of very wonderful actors were on-stage. All the locations mentioned are real places, if colored somewhat by time and memory.
> 
> As always, if you have any comments or criticism, please leave a comment in the reviews - I read all of them and it really tells me what people liked and what I can work on.


	2. South Bank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls head to The Globe to see a Doctor Who companion on stage, and see a little of the London nightlife.

Their tour of the Globe passed without incident, although Weiss had to stop Ruby from drooling when she saw some of the performers practicing rapier combat behind a small roped-off area. Ignoring the cries of – 'Oooh. Shakespeare manga!' – Weiss buried herself in the gift shop's play texts, scanning through scripts the Globe was putting on that season. The devil was the theme du jour, the entire reception area prepped for their performance of  _Faust_ , the ad posters featuring a former centurion and Doctor companion as Mephistopheles, the manipulative agent of hell.

Ruby's growling stomach finally drove them from the gift shop, ending up inside a little Turkish restaurant across from the ticket window. Weiss' perusal of the menu lasted only as long as it took Yang to realize  _lahmacun_  also went by the name 'Turkish pizza.' A half hour later, Ruby's stomach happily filled with lamb, flatbread, and tomato, Weiss finally ushered them into line before the high ringed wall, built in the same style as the original theatre.

They followed the flow of the growing crowd, the pit filling in behind them as they headed for the stage. Ducking the elbow of a particularly tall man, Weiss wished again that she had sprung for the padded balcony seats. But Yang had insisted on being a 'groundling' – not that she actually cared what a groundling was – and so the three packed in right at the foot of the stage. At least it meant that Weiss would have a decent view, and it was a very different experience, standing that close to the stage.

The set was decked in reds and golds, pillars wrapped to look like rusty marble, befitting a play featuring a man's descent into damnation. Greek-themed frescoes decorated the back wall, painted pieces hiding entrances and exits, shielding later acts' stage devices from view. The polished wood of the stage was just slightly too high for Weiss to rest her arms on, so she settled for leaning up against the side and envying Yang her height. The blonde was lounging against the wooden sides, looking perfectly comfortable, her neck craning as she stared at the curtain-covered entrances.

"How much trouble would I get in if I touched Rory as he goes by?"

"Yang, if you get us thrown out of here, I  _swear_ -"

" _EXTERMINATE!_ "

"… I hate you all."

* * *

After the play had finished, and Faust had been dragged kicking and screaming into the pits of hell by a fittingly goateed Arthur Darvill, the three walked out into the still-warm summer night. The chatter of a hundred some-odd guests clamored against Weiss' ears, a multitude of accents and languages slipped from various tongues. While several dialects of English dominated, Weiss could hear snippets of French, German, and what she thought might be Korean as the crowd scattered. The Globe was a tourist trap, although an admittedly nice one, drawing thousands of visitors from around the world to marvel at the memory of one of the most prolific playwrights of his age.

Not that everyone was as fascinated.

"You know, from a former spy who may or may not have been suspected of being a traitor, or – even worse – a Catholic … and then got stabbed in a bar fight, I was expecting something more exciting," Yang mused, arms swinging as they headed back towards the Thames.

Weiss rolled her eyes. The blonde's taste in entertainment tended towards high-octane car chases, gun fights, and the occasional space battle.

"Yang, Marlowe's  _Faust_  was a horror blockbuster in its day," she said. "The equivalent of a haunted house dripping with blood, axe murderers popping out of the walls. The devil appearing on stage was genuinely frightening to many audiences; we just don't have the same frame of reference."

"I guess, but the slapstick bits were just dull."

"Well, I'm sorry they didn't hit anyone with an anvil, although I do agree the katanas for the angel and devil  _were_  ridiculous. Everything else used classical design elements – a Roman spatha would have made much more sense. Or a xiphos."

" _So_  not the point, Weiss," Yang paused, getting her bearings before leading the three back down the South Bank boardwalk. "Is Meh-fisty supposed to come off kinda like a possessive boyfriend?"

"It's  _Mephistopheles_  … and yes, the homoerotic subtext is something of a tradition. That production was actually fairly subtle." Weiss spared a glance over at the darkened National Theatre before they turned towards the water, regretting they didn't have time to visit before heading out to Stratford. "Plus, with the issue of having young men play female roles, there's a lot a humor derived from the issue of sexual attraction. Shakespeare's  _Twelfth Night_  is-"

"Nerrrrrrd," Yang called, hands clasped over her ears as she sped up, long legs carrying her off down the walkway.

"Philistine!" Weiss shouted back. Still chatting about the show, they followed the rest of the crowd meandering over the Blackfriars Bridge. Blue-and-purple lights sparkled off the water, lighting the footbridge from beneath and flickering off their faces. St. Paul's towered up before them, the tall dome looming behind modern buildings scattered at its feet. It was one of the modern ones they were headed to, nestled in the base of a brownstone wedge extending out towards the street.

"I liked the dragons," Ruby chimed in, slipping her hand in Weiss' as the two followed the blonde. "And it was nice to see Darvill in something other than Doctor Who."

"But you're much more excited about seeing Tennant. I know."

"He  _is_  the best Doctor," the younger girl teased, nudging slightly with her shoulder and making Weiss roll her eyes at the obvious bait.

The public house they were headed for sat near – not on – the site of the original Blackfriars theatres. The second iteration was by far the more famous, being owned in part by Burbage and Shakespeare, long after the boys' troops in London had fallen out of favor. Named as much for the district as the original, the Blackfriars Pub sat against the street, light and sound pouring out into the warm night.

If not a faithful reproduction, it still a managed to impress. Blackened carvings of theoretically Dominican monks stared down at the people around the curved bar, watching as pound notes passed to the busily pouring bartenders. Dark wood and carpeted floors supported even darker tables, the bleached, aged look of the walls making the place seem far older than it actually was. Deep browns and brass and blackened iron were everywhere, giving the place a warm, homey feeling that Weiss guessed would still be there even in the dead of winter. There were a thousand conversations, of bosses and workdays, of old friends and football games – soccer, she realized later, not 'football'.

They saw little of this, as Yang quickly dragged the other two along the back wall, dodging passing drinkers until they found a mercifully empty table. Plunking them down in the little alcove, the blonde popped back into the fray, calling out behind her as she went.

"First round's on me!"

Grateful for the seat after hours of standing on concrete, Weiss stretched her legs as far as the packed pub would allow. It wasn't much, and they eventually ended with her legs reached out across Ruby's, calves resting atop each other beneath the table.

"So, what's next?" Ruby asked, flipping through her little guidebook and marking off one dog-eared page.

"The Tower in the morning, before it gets too busy.  _Much Ado_ with Tennant and Tate is tomorrow afternoon, we'll head to the Old Vic for Spacey as Richard the III the day after. Then we head out to Stratford to see Sir Patrick Stewart in  _Merchant of Venice_."

"And Cardiff for the Who museum!"

"Only if you let me take us to one of the castles," Weiss countered, flipping to the Welsh section of the guide. "Powis is supposed to be gorgeous."

"Is that the one with the massive armory?"

The heiress leveled her best glare at her girlfriend. The younger girl merely shrugged and smiled a little too innocently, red-streaked hair bouncing. She knew Weiss was more than familiar with her love for medieval weaponry, and that the promise of rooms filled with weapons and armor had been a major reason for her excitement over the trip.

Mouth half-open to remind Ruby that castles did  _actually_ consist of more than just halls filled with weapons, Weiss stopped as a dark bottle clunked down on the table. Yang had chosen that moment to return, dropping a little plastic basket filled with food and pouring bright pink liquid into the ice-filled glass for Ruby.

"Strawberry cider for the first-time drinker, and a pinot noir for the pretentious prickly princess. Oh, and I got us some fish-and-chips."

Ignoring the jab, Weiss speared a chip into the ketchup. It was good – which she'd expected – thicker and tastier than the fries back home. "Nothing for you?

"Only got two hands," the blonde said, tearing off a chunk of fish before standing back up. "They've got an Irish Car Bomb waiting for me."

"Yang, considering that a decade ago they actually had  _real_  ones, that wasn't a good idea."

"I'm aware, but there's no other name for it, so I just ordered the ingredients to mix myself!" Yang blonde grinned and scampered off, proud of her little life-hack. "They don't do half-sizes, so I had to order two!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the plays mentioned were actually performed at the time. Granted, there is a lot of drama always going on in London, especially out of the West End, but this was a great year to go for Star Trek and Who fans.


	3. The Blackfriar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang has her meet not-so-cute with a particularly attractive Brit.

The alcohol and extra glasses were already lined up when Yang made it back to the bar, the bartender looking particularly bemused as he passed them over.  _Just another crazy American,_  Yang thought, laughing as she balancing the shots and pint glasses in her arms, careful so the mixings wouldn't slip. Guinness balanced in one hand, Jameson and Baileys in the other, she began meandering her way back to the table. It was slow going, dodging as people moved in to take her position at the bar, calls for refills and second or third rounds filling the air. It was nice, a happy chaos of several dozen voices drowning each other out in accents Yang had only heard on television, if at all. Estuary and Cockney, Oxford and Scouse and what she assumed was Scottish, all mixed with as many dialects as there were people.

Right then, however, she could have used a little less chaos and a little more breathing room. It was several minutes before she made it back, fighting not to laugh when she found Weiss stubbornly refusing to let Ruby feed her a ketchup-covered chip.

"Hey, guys, I got everyth-" Finding her way blocked by a portly Brit in tweed, Yang took one final step to the side and, being somewhat preoccupied with the business of not dropping whisky down her front, slammed right into the woman standing behind him.

Guinness sloshed everywhere, dousing both women with dark suds. Little cream-colored bubbles ran down her face as Yang tried to keep her balance. Scrambling, she managed to hang onto the shots, her leg kicking out to let the now-empty pint glass roll down to the floor. A brief uproar joined the audible chaos, the odd whoop and holler at her party foul followed by several words she could only guess the meaning to.

"Bloody hell!" the woman cried.

"Oh god, I am so sorry," Yang said, gingerly sliding the remaining glasses onto the table before turning back to the woman.

The brunette wiped beer from her face, looking up at Yang with a rather forced expression. Creamy-brown foam clung to her nose, dripping down her bangs and falling into golden eyes. Lacquered nails flicked beer at the ground while little tufted ears pressed back against her head, miserable from their sudden soaking.

Yang watched as the woman's jaw set, eyes narrowing, tension building in her shoulders until ... she sighed. Her body unknotted, the tension slipping from her muscles as she looked back at Yang.

"It's fine."

"No, it's really not," Yang said, grabbing napkins off the table and gingerly patting the other woman down. She started with the coat – it seemed like the safest place to start.

"Nice thing about leather: it'll all come off." Taking some of the paper squares, the brunette started clearing the brew from her hair. "Shirt might be a wash, though."

"I'm really sorry. Let me get you another drink, okay?"

"It's all right. I was just about to-"

"Please?"

Gold eyes looked up into lilac ones, staring almost impassively at what Yang sincerely hoped was her most apologetic face. She might not be able to pull off Ruby's puppy eyes – being taller than most people tended to ruin that – but she could still manage to look fairly miserable.

With a sigh, the raven-haired woman went back to cleaning foam from her face and hair, and let Yang sit her down at the girls' table. "Since I'm already covered in the stuff, Guinness should be fine."

Yang cringed a little, and scampered off to the bar, ignoring the beer staining her own clothes. Several minutes, two pints, and a whole lot of napkins later, she managed to make it back to the table, finding the brunette chatting amiably with the other two.

"It happens," the woman said, wringing the last bit of beer from her shirt. "You're Americans, right? Here on holiday?"

Weiss nodded and took another sip of her wine. "We're here for a few more days before we head out towards Wales, and then swing back to Heathrow for the flight home."

"Well, you picked the perfect year to come."

"Yeah! All the Doctor Who guys are doing shows!" Ruby chirped, her thankfully silent Dalek bouncing on her lap.

"... I meant before the Olympics come next year. You effectively beat the rush."

Yang set the first pint down in front of her accidental victim, before taking the last open seat at the table.

"Again, I'm really sorry."

"It really is fine. Sorry if I snapped, chalk it up to surprise at suddenly becoming a soggy beermat." Pulling the drink towards her, the brunette set it aside and reached out her hand to Yang. "I'm Blake, by the way."

"Yang."

With the introductions out of the way, the four settled into more-or-less easy conversation. Blake turned out to be a rather excellent source of information on London tourism – mainly because she herself was only visiting the city. An English lit major down from Oxford, she had just finished meeting some old friends when Yang had dumped her drink all over her. Although the longer they talked, the less Yang found herself regretting the accident.

 _Maybe, just maybe,_  she thought.  _I should spill alcohol on pretty women more often._

But inevitably, time wore on, bells ringing from a distant clock as the night struck twelve. At the last peal, Weiss glanced down at her watch, as if expecting that somehow the time would be different. Rummaging through her bag, she pulled out her chart of the London tube timetables, finger running down the list until she found the one they needed.

"Yang, we'll miss the last train if we don't leave soon."

With a start, Ruby jumped to her feet and, shouting assurances that she'd be right back, scampered downstairs to the loo.

Yang looked from Weiss, still clutching the train map in her hand, to the brunette absently swirling beer at the bottom of her glass. Blake showed no signs of needing to leave, but then she knew the city better than any of them. Yang met her eyes, and the two just stared at each other for a second, before Blake raised one thin eyebrow.

Yang made her decision right then and there. Turning to Weiss, she grinned. "You guys go on ahead, I'll catch one of those night buses."

Weiss looked from her to Blake, who suddenly found the blackened monk icon to be particularly interesting. "You sure?"

The blonde leaned in, making a big show of being secretive and ruining it completely with her inability to lower her voice. "If I stay here for a bit, that gives you and Ruby some time to yourselves."

Weiss pursed her lips and glowered furiously at the blonde, her expression floating somewhere between exasperation and gratitude. Eventually, she settled on gratitude, the scowl fading a little as she rose to leave.

"You ... are a good sister."

"I know. Now go-" Yang paused, looking suddenly thoughtful, and turned to Blake. "What's the British version of 'make out?'"

"Make out," the Faunus replied, completely deadpan. Relenting under Yang's glare, she smirked. "Go with 'snog.'"

Nodding, Yang turned back to the heiress. "Weiss, go snog my sister."

Red-faced and biting back the angry retort, Weiss gathered up her jacket and led the newly-returned and only slightly confused Ruby out the door.

Which just left Yang and Blake at the table, surrounded by a steadily decreasing crowd. The chaotic roar of the pub had started to die down as the night ground to an end, bankers and office workers in various classes of suits coming and going, grabbing their last rounds before petering out into the night.

"So, she and your sister ..." Blake started, trailing off and leaving the question unfinished.

"Yeah. I'm trying not to be  _too_  much of a third wheel."

"Well, this is a good city for it. Kensington is particularly romantic."

Yang shrugged. "Weiss is the one with  _the plan_. I'd be fine just wandering around aimlessly."

"Maybe what you need is a guide."

"Oh, do I?" Yang asked, leaning forward over the table. "I don't suppose you'd know where I could find one?"

Blake twitched one eyebrow and knocked back the last of her beer, leaning back in her chair and balancing the drink on the table. "You know, Covent Garden has this lunch market that pops up on Thursdays. Artisan foods, special desserts, pot bread-"

" _Pot_  bread?" Yang's head popped up, brows creased at the phrase. "I thought that was illegal in the UK."

Blake smirked. "Wrong kind of 'pot.' There's this very nice Irish baker who shows up sometimes. Bakes this soft bread with little bits of tomato inside clay pots. Rather good, really."

"Ooh. Yeah, that makes more sense."

"There's also this little overpriced flea market, but I have seen some old Doctor Who comics there once or twice-"

Yang wasn't about to let her finish that thought. Turning on her chair towards the darker girl, she leaned in, gazing up at dark brows and golden eyes and doing her best to be irresistible. "Do you wanna grab lunch tomorrow?"

Blake stared down at her for a moment, her lips twisted, as if unsure whether to smile or frown. "... not sure how this works in the States, but here it's considered polite to let the other person  _finish_  asking you out."

"Meh. You cheated with Who comics."


	4. Covent Garden

The summer air was hot and dry when the three girls finally made their way out of the packed tube station. The crush of people made the already oppressive heat worse; by the time they came off the escalator and onto the street, Weiss was fanning herself with a brochure while Yang tugged desperately at the collar of her tank, hoping to get some air between her skin and the fabric.

The road outside was heaven compared to the stifling underground. A gentle breeze blew down the crowded streets, rippling skirts and tugging gently at the hats of shoppers and tourists. Street performers in a mismatched bevy of costumes lined the road, metallic-painted clothes and plastic props easy to spot among the rest of the crowd. Children gathered around, dropping coins into their hats or jars before jumping up to take a picture with the silver-painted Conan, or the man 'magically' sitting on thin air. Employees stood outside their bars and shops, handing flyers to passing tourists, trying to drum up more service as the day went on.

To Ruby's consternation, Yang ignored all of this, taking her sister by the hand and heading down towards the courtyard below. Weiss followed, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the street performers and moving quickly to dodge a Queen Elizabeth impersonator, their cheap rubber mask making them look more like a serial killer than an entertainer. The road sloped down, the packed street growing a bit less crowded as it emptied into the massive space, flowing into yet another group of people, this one gathered around a Charlie Chaplin, his face painted to match the original films that had made the actor and character so well-known. The black-and-white clothed man was in the middle of his act, miming various mishaps while children who only got half the joke laughed, the older parents smiling at monochrome memories of old, nostalgic films.

Not that Yang paid them any attention. The blonde looked around, bouncing on tip-toe to see over the heads of the audience, craning her neck to look behind pillars and signs as if she expected her date to be there. Eventually, a gap in the crowd opened, and Yang's face lit up.

There she was, leaning against a bike rack in a button-down and shorts, thick sunglasses perched atop her head, dog-eared paperback in one hand. She smiled as the blonde bounded over, ecstatic to have found her.

"What'cha reading?" Yang asked as Blake slid the book into her bag. "Tell me it's not  _Twilight_. We ran into four kids on the train with their noses buried in that trash."

The British Faunus shuddered, turning the spine around for Yang to see. "Bradbury. You ready?"

Yang nodded and stepped in beside Blake as they moved towards the complex, Ruby hot on their heels, unabashed in a shirt proclaiming 'Bow-ties are cool!' Weiss followed close behind, shaking her head at the energetic sisters, broad-brimmed hat pulled down to shield her face from the sun, pale sundress swirling around her thighs.

They walked past the Chaplin performer, past a man doing street magic to the wonderment of assembled children, and turned the corner to find themselves in the middle of an impromptu bazaar. Dozens of stalls stretched across the courtyard, looking home-made and covered in signs listing their goods. For a moment, they simply breathed, letting the aromas of hamburger, naan, fresh-baked bread, barbeque, curry, and chocolate each overwhelm them in turn. Somehow, the smells stayed separate, creating zones of delicious bliss rather than mixing into some foul concoction. Each stall was an island in a sea of mouth-watering aromas, promising an immediate increase in their waistlines.

The group split, Ruby dragging Weiss towards the nearest cookie stand, ignoring the heiress' insistence that no, macaroons  _did not_  constitute an entire meal. Indian was the  _plat du jour_  for Blake, keema curry ladled into a cardboard cup with fresh-made naan slid lovingly into a brown paper bag. Yang was still at the barbeque stand when the Faunus rejoined her, talking animatedly with the cockney-accented vendor as they argued happily over brisket.

Lunch was eaten with fingers and plastic utensils, seated against a pillar outside the Disney store with cartoon dolls and frilly dresses hanging in the window. Weiss had managed to convince Ruby to eat something in addition to her growing stash of cookies, and between them, they balanced a paper plate heaped with paella, the seasoned rice thick with chicken and shrimp, and spicy enough to make Weiss gasp as she reached for the water bottles she'd been smart enough to bring.

"So," Blake said, slipping the remains of her lunch back into the bag. "Is it everything I promised?"

"I have to admit, it's pretty sweet." Yang smiled, dabbing at her mouth. Rising to her full height, she leaned down until her mouth was right by the Faunus' ear. "Now, I believe someone said something about Who comics?"

With a roll of her eyes, Blake led the geek and her friends around the courtyard, waiting while Ruby tried to tug Weiss away from a sign declaring yet another Shakespeare play, this one staged at the Covert Garden church.

The building Blake headed towards looked a bit like an old warehouse. The flea market was tucked beneath the low ceiling, opening onto stalls of used and discount goods. Watches and scarves hung from stands, racks of clothes running the length of the complex. The lights gave off an odd hum, mixing with the chatter of people shopping and making it almost impossible to hear farther than a few feet.

"Ooh. Sword!" Ruby cried, darting off and dragging Weiss behind her, ignoring the white-haired girl's objections that there was no way in hell they could take it on the plane. There were coats and chains and a drinking horn that Yang seriously considered getting – if only for the novelty – and finally, at the end of the row, in all their vintage glory, were the comics. Bright colors and campy designs covered the pages as besuited Doctors faced down ray-gun wielding cyborgs and rubber-looking monsters. A smaller box held the newer issues, their Doctors thin and gangly, with runners or bow-ties and art that was a little sharper, the ink more vivid.

Yang buried herself in that box, not seeing the little smile twitching at the corner of Blake's mouth as she poured over the issues. The older ones became Weiss' domain, the heiress methodically picking through the collection and explaining the background of each to a half-listening Ruby, still trying to crane her neck over the crowd to look at the cavalry saber hanging in one stall.

Hours later, bags laden with extra food and souvenirs, the four women stepped back into the courtyard, Weiss trying to explain the significance of 'the Other,' Rassillon, and Omega within the Doctor Who universe to Ruby, while the younger girl kept trying to come up with excuses to go back for the cavalry blade.

"One last thing before we go," Blake said with a smile, leading them back into the main covered market, past flutists packing their instruments away and the dwindling lunch crowd. She stepped into a dark storefront, images of vanilla and chocolate scoops coated in fudge and plunked into waffle bowls decorating the sign.

"More food?" Weiss asked, watching as Ruby eagerly started scanning through the menu.

"Sort of," Blake smiled slightly and led them into the store. The interior was dark, almost too dark for an ice cream shop, with black walls, gold trim, and neon lighting that seemed more appropriate for a nightclub. Various servers in white shirts and black vests stationed beneath brass filigree ladled the various flavors into cones, wearing just enough black leather to make Yang think twice about what kind of place this actually was. After the décor, it was the flavors that brought the most attention, with popcorn-vanilla-caramel, molotoffe, raspberry nipple, apple and vodka, and – to Ruby's confusion and Weiss' distaste – one bucket of what looked like vanilla with jelly babies that was  _very_  clearly marked as being made from breast milk.

"You could get ice cream anywhere in the city, but since we're here, it would be wrong to go without trying some of these. Especially the alcohol-infused ones."

Yang beamed. "Doctor Who, food markets, and alcoholic ice cream? Where have you been all my life?"

"Well, it's this small county by the name of England. Nice place really ..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So, this will probably be where I leave this. Please take a second to comment/review, it makes me feel all happy inside and I'm curious as to what people thought of this format and if anyone would like me to continue doing something similar.**
> 
> **I have a few ideas for a couple other _A Huntress Abroad_  fics, including one I've been working on for Japan, and the  _Dead Sea_ one I finished from RWBY RS week. Ideally, this would let me play with a few of the ships people have requested, but if there's a pairing you'd like to see, leave me a note in the comments. Since I multi-ship, if it interests me at all, I'll take requests.**


End file.
